


Don't Stop Running

by BeingTowardDeath



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, Gen, Ichigo is sexually liberal, Implied Relationships, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 17:06:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18525883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeingTowardDeath/pseuds/BeingTowardDeath
Summary: Ever notice how you feel the pain and exhaustion of running only when you stop? Or how you feel the true weight of a relationship only when it ends? Don't stop running, or you'll get tired.





	Don't Stop Running

**\- Just Constants-**

“I’m telling you, Ichigo, it’s disgusting.”

“C’mon, just imagine it for a second—”

“Hell, no!”

“Don’t be such a prude! _Really_ _think_ about how it’ll feel—”

“ _No!_ ”

“Ah, if it isn’t our resident tsundere couple, bickering as usual.”

The indignant orange-haired teen and his petite raven-haired companion looked up from their deadlock and halted their steps in surprise. They had been arguing so vehemently on their way to school that they had arrived at campus unaware of the distance they had already crossed. Were it not for their dutifully waiting motley crew of friends the pair would have walked straight past the gate.

“Good morning, Kurosaki-kun! Kuchiki-san!” Inoue Orihime greeted from the concrete bench on which she was sitting. Her signature kind and cheerful smile radiated warmth in the otherwise chilly December morning.

It wasn’t just her smile; everything about Inoue was warm and inviting—from her pleasantly orange hair to her large brown eyes. And anyone who knew her personally would agree that she was the sweetest (albeit the weirdest) person in Karakura Town. Everyone wanted to be her friend–in fact, they probably already were, given her friendliness.

The fact that she regularly hung around ‘ _Kurosaki Ichigo’s group_ ’ gave her an amount of prestige in the eyes of their peers, though she was still by far the most approachable of the lot.

It was this reputation of hers that bothered Rukia slightly whenever Inoue greeted her so formally even after knowing each other for years.  The rest of their friends’ simultaneous greetings prevented Rukia from insisting, for the thousandth time, on a less formal address, so she let it go.

“You’re quite late today,” Kojima Mizuiro commented with a smirk, continuing his earlier teasing while brushing a stray lock of his black hair behind his ear. “Did your lovers’ quarrel take much of your morning?”

Ichigo rolled his eyes and told him to shut up. Rukia, on the other hand, glanced at the school’s entrance in a panic. “We’re _late_?!”

“Don’t worry, Rukia-san, there’s still some time before the first bell,” assured Arisawa Tatsuki, the short-haired girl sitting beside Inoue. She had her arms crossed lazily behind her head in contrast to Inoue’s daintily placed on her lap. The two girls were best friends and opposites in almost every way. Where Orihime was soft, Tatsuki was sharp; when Orihime was gentle, Tatsuki was formidable—bolstered by the fact that she was a renowned blackbelt in karate. “Mizuiro just means you’re usually the first ones here. Well... after Ishida-san, of course.” Tatsuki jerked her thumb toward the boy leaning casually against the tree casting a shade over their bench.

Ishida Uryū, the early bird in question, readjusted his glasses with a hint of smugness before addressing Ichigo coolly, relishing in the chance to chastise him. “It was a refreshing change, Kurosaki. Without you, our topics of conversation this morning were more—”

Ichigo, however, had other things on his mind than to listen to Ishida’s sermon. “Oi, what do you guys think of feet?”

“—respectable.”

Rukia stiffened at the idiot’s refusal to let things go, and Ishida glared at Ichigo’s almost immediate negation of his point. “Think about _what?_ ”

“Feet,” Ichigo repeated innocently. “That’s what Rukia and I were fighting about so maybe you guys should settle it. Feet, sexy or not sexy?” When his friends only stared back at him in utter silence, he explained, “You know, like, do they turn you on? Feet-licking, toe-sucking...”

Four pairs of eyes flitted between Ichigo’s and Rukia’s faces, while another lay hidden beneath wavy dark brown hair. Its owner, the soft-spoken giant Sado Yasutora—or Chad, as he preferred to be called—was ironically the first to break the silence that had carried on for a solid seven seconds.

“... It doesn’t sound like something Kuchiki-san would like, Ichigo.”

The stress vein that had been growing on Rukia’s temple since Ichigo brought up the subject of his newfound fetish finally reached its limit and, in a rare departure from her normally polite demeanor, she smacked Chad on the highest part of his arm she could reach.

“ _It isn’t for me!_ ” she growled, instantly regretting her violent outburst considering she had chosen a human rock as its target.

Ichigo sighed exasperatedly at seeing Rukia clutch her throbbing hand to her chest, and chastised his friends. “How many times do we have to tell you guys? We are _not_ a couple!”

* * *

They shouldn’t have expected anything less from their friends’ reactions, really. They _had_ repeatedly told everyone, time and again, that no, Kurosaki Ichigo and Kuchiki Rukia weren’t a couple. They couldn’t even agree with each other on the simplest of things—simpler than foot fetishes, of course—nor could they get through an argument without resorting to some form of physical violence against each other. It wasn’t exactly a relationship conducive to romance.

Although, Rukia supposed it was hard for others to believe them because she and Ichigo were always _together_ , which would lead the unintelligent to think that they were ‘together’ together. It wasn’t like she could help it; she and Ichigo were part of the same group of friends, so naturally people at school would always see them _being_ together. It also didn’t help that neither of the two made any effort to expand their social circle, so their motley crew had remained relatively unchanged for over three years.

 _Still_ , she thought, _maybe I could choose to stand beside someone else next time._

Rukia consciously took a step away from Ichigo and noticed that Inoue was looking at her in polite confusion. Rukia smiled at her sheepishly, as she always did whenever this sort of thing happened. It was Rukia’s way of apologizing, for she knew that Inoue had the longest and most intense childhood crush on Ichigo.

Rukia had always hoped that such gestures–more than her words–were enough to allay Inoue’s fears, but maybe the fact that she was still ‘Kuchiki-san’ to her called for a change in strategy.

* * *

 “Besides,” Ichigo continued loudly, “I have a rule about not dating anyone from school. Who needs all that drama?”

Oblivious to the silent exchange of glances among his friends, Ichigo crossed his arms in finality at the end of his pronouncement.

“Does that mean you’re into older women, too, Ichigo?” Mizuiro asked with a mischievous glint in his eye. “In which case, I believe Rukia-san fits the profile–”

“I’d be careful if I were you, Mizuiro,” smirked Tatsuki. “It seems Rukia-san has a pretty strong arm. Your pretty face can’t take a beating like Chad’s arm can.”

Rukia’s face reddened slightly but she refrained from saying anything to escalate the situation.

“Che. Age doesn’t matter,” Ichigo said dismissively. “Maturity does.”

“So, by your standards, a mature woman likes to have her toes sucked on?” Rukia quipped, unable to resist the opportunity to antagonize him.

“IT’S A LEGITIMATE THING!” Ichigo barked, his pitch rising by an octave as he yelled at Rukia and shot daggers at her with his eyes. “I looked it up on the Internet!”

Their friends, save for Ishida, settled back comfortably in their positions as they watched the two butt heads once again. The bickering may have started later than usual, but their Monday was now back to its regular scheduled programming.

* * *

 “Enough!” Ishida cried exasperatedly when Ichigo began crying for mercy with his arm twisted behind him. “Can we talk about more _pressing_ issues now? For instance, the upcoming Center Test?”

Everyone groaned in unison (an utterance of the word “killjoy” even floated around) as Ishida pulled out a thick reviewer and flipped to a dog-eared page. “What answers did you get for numbers seventy-two to seventy-seven on the Math A section?”

It was Ishida’s turn to be met with utter silence, as everyone exchanged confirming looks that not a single one of them had gone that far in the review book. In fact—

“Um... Ishida-kun,” Inoue piped up meekly, “What book is that?”

“ _W-What book?!_ ” he shrieked. “Inoue-san! The test is one month away—how do you not have the reviewer? Has no one been preparing for the test?!”

Ichigo rubbed the bottom of his nose with his finger. “Well... I planned to once winter break starts.”

“That’ll be too late, Kurosaki!” Ishida’s shoulders shook with annoyance. “I figured you were an idiot when you forwent cram school but I didn’t think you were _this_ reckless!”

“... ‘forwent’?”

“ _How can you possibly think you’d be ready at this rate?!_ ”

“Ichigo’s never been one to plan ahead,” explained Tatsuki calmly. “He’ll probably barrel through the exams and come out with a surprisingly good results anyway. Won’t you, Ichigo?”

The orange-haired senior frowned thoughtfully amid chiding laughter and disbelieving groans. He turned to Rukia. “Have _you_ been preparing?” he asked her accusingly, because if she had, then he definitely would have noticed and done something, too.

Rukia’s mirthful expression turned to surprise and then embarrassment over suddenly being the center of attention. The force of Ichigo’s stare always seemed to create its own gravitational field.

“Oh, um... I...” she stuttered evasively. “I wasn’t... planning on... taking the test...?” She ended the sentence on an upward inflection to take the edge off of her announcement, a prudent decision since nearly everyone gasped in surprise at the revelation–everyone except Ichigo, who was, true to form, slow on the uptake.

“How are you going to apply for university without taking the test, _stupid_?!” he scowled down at her, as though her ignorance made him angry.

Rukia glared back at him and snapped, “I’m not _going_ to university, you moron!”

“But why, Kuchiki-san?” protested Mizuiro. “You have one of the highest grades in our level. Surely _you_ have a higher chance of attending a prestigious university than any of us!”

Ishida’s eye twitched at Mizuiro’s oversight but he opted to come to Rukia’s defense instead of biting his pretty little head off. “Perhaps Kuchiki-san wants to carve her own path,” he said evenly. “After all, there is no one path to success.”

And as if the universe was sending a sign in agreement, the school bell began to chime.

As crowds of students began flocking toward the doors, the group took their time stretching their limbs and gathering their things. It took less than three minutes to get from their shaded bench on the outskirts of campus to their classroom, but the group had an unspoken habit of making fashionably just-in-time entrances. They didn’t plan on it; it just sort of happened over the years.

“GUUUUUUUYS!!! WAIT FOR MEEEEEE!!!”

Everyone but Ichigo turned around, more out of instinct than any actual concern, at the unmistakable voice and watched expectantly as Ichigo swung his bag over his shoulder and began counting silently in his head.

_Three... two..._

Ichigo raised his left fist and felt (and heard, with a sickening _CRUNCH_ ) his knuckles collide with the nose of one rambunctious Asano Keigo, whose arms were flailing forward, just inches away from Rukia’s chest, as a result of inertia.

“Don’t take too long, Keigo. The bell just rang,” Ichigo said as the rest of them continued walking, leaving the last member of their group to water the ground with his blood and tears.

* * *

“I’m just saying, Ichigo... Kuchiki-san could have turned around sooner but she waited until the last second! It really seems like she was baiting me so you could hit me, don’t you think so?”

Ichigo kept a languid pace on their way to the classroom, bringing up the rear as he always did, only today Keigo was with him, whining. Ichigo ignored him, his eyes fixed but unfocused on the back of Rukia’s head.

He thought about her forced announcement and felt slightly guilty for not picking up on her social cues. If he had, he wouldn’t have dragged up an uncomfortable subject in front of all of their friends.

_Rukia... isn’t going to university?_

In hindsight, he realized that they had never really talked about it. In his mind it was such a trivial thing; everyone these days went (or tried to get in) to a university after high school. He never considered that it wasn’t an option for everyone.

_Rukia isn’t like everyone. Her situation is different._

Ichigo subconsciously pulled at the hairs on the back of his head out of discomfort. He didn’t like thinking about it, much less talking to Rukia about it... about her situation.

* * *

_Four years ago..._

 

“Hey.”

Ichigo tapped his knuckles stiffly against the doorframe of what used to be his father’s cluttered office. It still had its distinct smell of dusty old books and dead plants, and Ichigo could see the marks on the wall where the bookshelves used to be. The desk his father barely used was pushed against the wall and opposite it was a spare medical cot from the clinic, bending under the weight of all the Chappy stuffed toys laying on it.

Other than the desk, the cot, and a painting of a crescent moon hanging on the wall, the small room looked almost desolate. Ichigo couldn’t blame his younger sisters for that—it  was kind enough of them to have prepared the room without anyone asking them to—but he felt like apologizing was the polite thing to do in this situation.

“Sorry it’s so... erm...” He trailed off awkwardly, looking down at his shoes. “Dad said we can go shopping for new stuff in the city this weekend.”

“No, please... This is fine.”

Ichigo looked up to see his best friend trying to smile at him over her shoulder. In spite of its extremely somber tone, he was actually glad to hear her voice again. It seemed like forever since Rukia last spoke.

“You dummy, this isn’t fine,” he said gruffly, stepping inside and extending his long, thin arms. “My dad never used this room ‘cause he felt claustrophobic being in it. See? It’s barely bigger than a closet–!”

“A closet is already more than I deserve.”

Ichigo closed his mouth and clenched his jaw. For the first time in his life, Ichigo wished he was more... sensitive. Like Mizuiro. That guy knew how to talk to girls.

Ichigo didn’t know how to deal with this new side of Rukia, and it worried him that if he didn’t learn soon, it wouldn’t go away. “Don’t say that,” he said quietly.

Rukia turned to face him, surprised by his change in tone. It was the first time since the incident that Ichigo had been able to properly looked her in the eye–not that he did it often before. However, he immediately lowered them when he saw that hers were still slightly swollen.

“I mean it, Ichigo,” she said indignantly, and in spite of that Ichigo was glad she was being assertive. It meant her spirit was still in there somewhere. “This is already asking too much from Ojisan, and from you and your sisters! I told you I can take care of myself—!”

“Are you stupid? Of course you can’t!” Ichigo folded his arms to stop himself from shaking her by the shoulders in frustration. _Remember: SENSITIVE._

“Where are you going to live, huh? How are you going to pay for stuff? Don’t even think about getting a part-time job, ‘cause nobody’s going to hire a fifteen-year-old who still watches Chappy cartoons— _OOF!!!_ ”

“Shut up!” Rukia clenched the fist she used to sock Ichigo across the face. “I would’ve made it work!”

“Sure you would,” he muttered disbelievingly while rubbing his stinging jaw. “In any case... whether you could or not,” he softened his voice with a sigh, “do you really think I’d let you live on your own?”

Rukia stared up at him in surprise. She wasn’t a stranger to Ichigo’s protective side, having seen it more than once whenever his sisters were involved. She had even fought side-by-side with him against a bunch of bullies terrorizing a little girl back in junior high. But never, in all her years of being friends with Ichigo, had she been on the receiving end of it. It felt nice. Considering everything that had happened, Rukia was glad that there was still someone looking out for her.

“Thank you... Ichigo.”

A lengthy beat of silence passed in what Rukia thought was Ichigo’s silent acknowledgement of her gratitude–that is, until she felt an overbearing presence looming over her. She tilted her head up to find herself inches away from Ichigo’s scrutinizing glare.

“Eh?! What was with that expression?” he demanded before she could react in surprise and shove him away.

“ _What the hell_ , Ichigo!”

He pointed a finger at her accusingly. “That melancholy, ‘ _Thank you, Ichigo_ ’ look! Don’t do that, it’s disturbing!”

“It’s called being grateful, you jerk!” Rukia couldn’t tell if the blush on her face was from fury or embarrassment.

“Well, don’t be,” Ichigo scoffed. “I don’t want you getting any ideas that you owe me, okay? As far as I know, nothing’s changed between us. You’ll still be an annoying midget, only now you’ll be living two seconds away from me.”

Rukia softened her stance. Unlike him, she wasn’t dense enough not to see when someone was saying something different from what they mean. So she played along. “Fine. You won’t get another thanks from me.”

“Good!”

They glared at each other for a few more seconds before Ichigo loudly announced that he was going to get some homework done. He was halfway through the door when he heard another quiet and sincere, “Thank you”.

* * *

  _To Ichigo’s credit, things really did get back to normal after that._

The first few days were understandably uncomfortable, but in just a week Rukia started accepting that she was genuinely part of the family.

And now, four years later, she really _was_ family to them. Rukia felt their sincerity and was immensely grateful to them for taking her in, but that still didn’t get rid of the feeling that she needed to do _something_ in return, to show that she wasn’t completely helpless. She was never fond of damsels in distress, after all.

So, as soon as she got back on her feet emotionally, Rukia had hunted around for a job. And contrary to Ichigo’s claim, there _were_ a handful of places that were willing to hire her (although he had been right about all the rest–not that Rukia would ever tell him), most probably because they believed that any teenager looking for a part time job was bound to be responsible.

* * *

_That’s probably why she came home late last night,_ Ichigo surmised, watching Rukia out of the corner of his eye while their homeroom teacher conducted the roll call. _Sandal-hat must be working her to the bone, the jerk. I wonder if it has anything to do with her not going to university..._

Ichigo decided he would ask Rukia about it after school, which came sooner than expected. Their last teacher of the day was prematurely feeling the effects of the upcoming winter break and dismissed them five minutes ahead of schedule.

He said a quick goodbye to his friends, all of whom had various after-school activities and, instead of turning right at the corner to head home, he continued straight ahead.

Rukia stopped in her tracks when she heard footsteps following her. “Not working at the clinic today, Ichigo?”

“Dad can handle a few minutes without me. I’ll walk you to the shop.”

“Ah, what a gentleman,” smirked Rukia. “That is so unlike you.”

Ichigo scowled. “What are you talking about? I’m a perfect gentleman! I dare you to name a more gentlemanly person than me!” Ichigo knew he lost when, less than a second after his challenge, Rukia immediately began counting off her fingers.

“There’s Ishida and Chad, they always hold doors open for me. And Mizuiro is sensitive–most of the time, when he’s not teasing. Tetsuo gave up his seat for me once. At work there’s Tessai-san, who’s really nice to me and even Jinta tries to be polite...” She tapped her chin, feigning thoughtfulness. “So, really, you’re only more gentlemanly than Keigo, and that’s not saying much.”

Ichigo bristled at the insult to his honor but saw the opportunity he needed and went for it.

“Well, Sandal-hat isn’t on that list,” he commented casually. “I guess he wouldn’t be, if he’s working you like a mule. He’s been asking you to work longer hours lately, hasn’t he?” He saw Rukia look up in surprise and chastised her. “Idiot, did you think I wouldn’t notice? We live together after all.”

“Right...”

“So? What’s going on at the shop?”

Rukia bowed her head humbly. “Urahara-san has been away for a while. He kind of left me a lot to do.”

Ichigo frowned, wondering why Urahara chose to give Rukia the responsibility when he knew she was a working student. As though reading his mind, Rukia waved a hand dismissing his concerns. “I don’t mind,” she assured. “I think he’s grooming me for a more important position, which is why he’s been giving me more responsibilities.”

That didn’t satisfy Ichigo at all. “A more important position?” he snorted. “As what exactly? Head of the candy department? There are literally _four_ employees in that shop–and two of them are freakin’ kids, which I’m sure is _illegal_!”

They were coming around a slight curve in the street and the Urahara Shōten came into view, just in time for Ichigo to use it as a prop for his argument. He put a hand on Rukia’s shoulder to stop her from proceeding and then gestured at the store, nestled cozily between larger and more impressive buildings around it, at the tiny but suspicious van parked at its side, and at the perpetually dusty and noticeably empty front parking space.

“I mean, look at it, Rukia! It doesn’t make sense to have a general store here. The Urahara Shōten will be swept away by the sands of time, if not by _actual_ sand eventually.”

Rukia remained quiet, which Ichigo took to mean that she agreed with him but just didn’t want to say it out loud. Without a word, she continued her dignified walk to her workplace.

_She’s so stubborn._

It didn’t take more than a few of his steps to catch up to several of hers.

“Is this what you really want?” he asked, not bothering to hide the judgment in his tone. “To be the manager of a shop whose future relies on customers that favor nostalgia over the practicality of convenience stores? To track inventory of candies that’ll expire because no one ever buys them? To—?”

“Okay, I get it!” snapped Rukia. She knew he was only leading up to asking what her plans were now that he found out she wasn’t going to university, so she decided to beat him to it before Tessai overheard him dissing the shop. “Look, I get that working here might not be a smart _long-term_ plan, but right now it’s a decent job that pays really well for the amount of skill it requires. I can’t really ask for anything more than that, can I?”

Ichigo reverted back to his scowl. After all these years, Rukia knew that the best way to shut him up was to act like _this_ , like she didn’t deserve to have anything good in her life, because she knew it always made him uncomfortable. He wasn’t the most sensitive of guys and she knew that, but accusing her of faking it just to shut him up was never a risk he wanted to take.

At least he knew she wasn’t lying about the pay. In fact, somewhere deep, _deep_ down inside, Ichigo was grateful for old Sandal-hat for giving Rukia a job that more than compensated her for her work. He and Rukia even had an inside joke that she was earning more than he was getting in allowance from his dad (a fact she loved to lord over him whenever he would complain about being out of funds).

As such, Ichigo could only mumble and grumble in defeat until they finally reached the shop’s front. Two broomsticks lay discarded haphazardly on the ground and a shadow was beginning to cast over them as the sun steadily approached the horizon. The wooden sliding doors were shut tightly and there seemed to be no light coming from inside.

Ichigo scratched his head. “Are you sure you even have work today?”

“Of course. There’s always work to do,” Rukia responded, then hesitated before admitting, “It always looks like this, actually.”

“WHAT?!” Ichigo yelped. “Seriously, _how_ is it possible for a dinky shop like Urahara’s to be earning so much when there are hardly any customers?!”

He froze, suddenly sensing an intimidating presence behind him, and heard a cheerful voice ring out:

“It’s all about making the right connections... Kurosaki-san.”

* * *

 “G-gyahh-aukkk!”

“Urahara-san! You’re back!” Rukia said as a form of greeting, turning around to find her boss, Kisuke Urahara, in his signature traditional wooden sandals and striped bucket hat, carefully avoiding the messy pile of men on the ground.

“HOW DARE YOU CALL OUR SHOP ‘ _DINKY’_?!” roared the one currently placing Ichigo in a headlock. The man was frighteningly large and muscular, his intimidating appearance diminished only slightly by his cornrowed hair and tacky handlebar mustache. His rectangular glasses reflected the sunset when he raised his head to greet Rukia politely. “Good afternoon, Kuchiki-san!”

“Hello,” she replied, glancing down at Ichigo’s purpling face, pincered by Tessai’s muscular arm. “Um, I think he’s had enough, Tessai-san...”

“As you wish, Kuchiki-san.”

Ichigo let out a huge gasp when he was released and sucked in as much air into his deprived lungs as possible.

“You have to forgive him, Kurosaki-san,” Urahara said breezily from behind his fan. “Tessai-san is mighty defensive about our little shop.”

“If he’s defensive, then there’s obviously something wrong with it,” Ichigo muttered under his breath while he struggled to get back on his feet.

“ _WHAT WAS THAT?_ ”

“N-nothing...”

Rukia cleared her throat before Ichigo did anything more to offend her co-worker. “Well, Ichigo, I guess I should get to work now. Thank you for walking me.”

Ichigo squinted and looked between the three, suspicious of Rukia’s polite behavior, before shaking his head and dusting off his shirt. “Whatever. See you later, Rukia.”

Rukia only let out the breath she’d been holding once Ichigo disappeared around the corner. It had been a while since Ichigo came around to the shop and she knew he only accompanied her today to see what was so appealing about it, which was why she was slightly annoyed that Urahara and Tessai hadn’t exactly given him a good impression of her workplace.

* * *

“My, my, Kuchiki-san, what a lovely sunset lighting you two must have had walking here together,” Urahara commented after closing the sliding door behind him, just shy of letting out a girlish giggle.

“Shut up, shopkeeper-san.” With Ichigo gone, Rukia was able to act freely around her boss without proving herself a hypocrite when it came to disrespecting elders.

“I really think Kurosaki might be batting for the other team, Kisuke-san,” Tessai thought out loud, “seeing as he has every chance to ask Kuchiki-san out but doesn’t. A man so blind as to ignore the needs of a queen right before his eyes must have them set on a king!”

Rukia’s stress vein tingled at the recurring insinuation of Ichigo doing _anything_ to her, but she thought better of expressing her displeasure toward Tessai. Her hand would not survive it. Luckily, a distraction came in the form of the shop’s doors suddenly sliding open, revealing a slender, dark-skinned woman leaning against them with her arms folded across her ample chest. “Tch. Anyone who looks like Ichigo isn’t likely to be gay,” she said.

Rukia turned in surprise. “Y-Yoruichi-san... you’re here, too?”

The golden-eyed woman was, as Rukia was told to believe, Urahara’s business partner, even though she had never actually seen Shihōin Yoruichi do any work around the shop; she just came in a few times a month to clear out Urahara’s pantry. Rukia marveled at how Yoruichi kept it tight when she consumed half a ton of food (if the tower of empty bowls Rukia found in the backroom sink one night were any indication), but she chalked it up to some crazy diet regimen.

She never bothered to ask, though. For some reason, Yoruichi intimidated her more than Tessai did.

“I just thought I’d drop by. It would seem rather suspicious if I called myself a business partner and didn’t do anything, wouldn’t it?” smirked Yoruichi.

Rukia paled. _Had I been that obvious?_

“So, Rukia-san, am I right about Ichigo or not?” the woman grinned slyly. “I bet a strapping young man like him fields women left, right, and center.”

“Yoruichi-san!”

Though she had only met the woman a total of seven times in all her years working at the Urahara Shōten, Rukia assumed that Yoruichi was more mature than her classmates and co-workers and was above making suggestive comments about her and Ichigo.

 _Or maybe_ I’m _the one being immature..._

“Yoruichi-san!” echoed Urahara, though his tone conveyed sarcasm and rebuke in contrast to Rukia’s shocked one. “Be careful with what you say! People might think you’re some kind of—ahem— _cougar._ ”

Rukia was too busy with her thoughts of being objective about seeing Ichigo _that_ way to notice the knowing glare that passed between the two adults on either side of her. She supposed it was an accurate assessment. A lot of women _did_ seem attracted to Ichigo. There was Orihime, obviously, but Rukia believed her case was different. Childhood crushes were more powerful than mere attraction, in her opinion.

Still, there were other girls at school who took a liking to Ichigo. Of course, it was all juvenile hearsay but before his declaration to date exclusively _outside_ Karakura High School became known, several brave girls had tried and failed, which probably contributed to the legend that he was dating Rukia.

And then there were the women Ichigo ended up _actually_ dating—if Rukia could call it that. None of them had even been properly introduced to his family and Rukia herself had only met a few of them by accident. Ichigo usually took them out for dates over a weekend or two, and then they’d never be heard of again. There was never any follow up from Ichigo and a heart-crushing break-up never happened.

Not that Ichigo was a womanizer or anything—Rukia would have smacked some sense into him before that could even happen. Ichigo was pretty respectful to most women he didn’t know, so Rukia never bothered with the romantic aspects of his personal life as long as he himself didn’t seem bothered... which he never did.

Everything was just so casual with Ichigo.

Rukia didn’t even know when he had the time to find women, outside of schoolwork and helping his father out at the clinic, so it was entirely plausible that women who find him attractive were bold enough to ask him out the instant they saw him on the streets.

_Fielding women left, right, and center..._

Yes. She supposed it was an accurate assessment.

* * *

“... Oi, what’s wrong with her?”

Rukia blinked. Her eyes focused on the thin hand waving in front of her face and gently grabbed onto the wrist before it made her dizzy.

A pair of children stood in front of her wearing contrasting expression of annoyance and concern. The small, red-haired boy whose wrist she was holding jerked it away and crossed his arms behind his head. Beside him, a meek-looking girl in pigtails looked up at Rukia with big, worrying eyes.

“Jinta. Ururu,” Rukia greeted monotonously.

“Good evening, Kuchiki-san,” Ururu said with a polite bow.

“What’s got you staring into space?” Jinta asked rudely. “Did Urahara sell you one of his expired medicines?”

The shopkeeper flushed in embarrassment. “Jinta-kun! I told you not to mention that again!” he said, fanning himself fervently. “It’s bad for business if people overhear you!”

“Kuchiki-san is merely missing the presence of Kurosaki Ichigo!” Tessai incorrectly explained in dramatic fashion, clutching his hands to his chest.

“Orange spiky-head was here?” Jinta asked eagerly, before grimacing and sticking his tongue out in disgust. “Yuck, who would ever miss _that_ guy? Good riddance!”

“But then Yoruichi-san had to ruin it by talking about other women flocking to Kurosaki!” Tessai continued in his operatic speech. “And now her heart is breaking at the image of him at the center of a harem—!”

_THWACK._

“ _Shut up!_ ” Rukia swung the broom, bristle-side down, on Tessai. “Just a minute ago you were accusing Ichigo of being gay!”

“Oh, how rude of me, Kuchiki-san!” Barely flinching from having the wooden stick crack in two on his head, Tessai moved into an apologetic kneeling position. “I keep bringing up Kurosaki as a sexual magnet, forgive me!”

Rukia ran her palm down her face in exasperation. Ururu wanted to help her but, as well-meaning as she was, she had completely misread Rukia’s reaction. “Um... Kuchiki-san surely has tons of boys chasing after her, too,” the young girl protested quietly.

“Oh, I have no doubt about it!” Urahara piped up jovially. “Who wouldn’t be enchanted by a beautiful, intelligent young woman with just the right amount of aggressiveness to keep things interesting in the boudoir—!”

Yoruichi pointed a devilish finger at him and barked, “Who’s the pervert now, old man?!” at the same moment Rukia threw the other broom with pinpoint accuracy.

The end of the stick penetrated the shopkeeper’s fan before stopping just short of his bare chest peeking through his dark green shirt.

“Oh, my!” Urahara exclaimed apologetically, pulling out a replacement fan from somewhere within his large coat. “I was merely agreeing with Ururu-chan that you have your fair share of would-be suitors, Kuchiki-san!”

“Well, no, as a matter of fact. I _don’t_.”

“... Oh.”

An awkward silence ensued as each and every one of the Urahara Shōten’s staff (except perhaps Jinta) felt embarrassed or sheepish. Rukia had been too focused on ending the inane discussion that she hadn’t thought about what she was revealing, and the others simply felt foolish for having put her on the spot.

The silence went on for a while. It was quite painful.

“Ay-ya!” Jinta alternated between screwing his knuckles on Ururu’s temples and pulling her pigtails. “See what you did?! That’s what you get for bringing it up, stupid head!”

“Ow, ow, ow! Jinta-kun, please stop!”

Rukia sighed. If this had been any other day she wouldn’t have even responded to Urahara’s first innuendo, but for some reason this particular day had revolved around her relationship with Ichigo and she was finding it hard to ignore asking herself some questions.

* * *

The walk home wasn’t any improvement. Four hours spent taking inventory had given her peace of mind but now that work was over Rukia had nothing to do but ponder her earlier slip.

She knew that Ichigo was conventionally handsome, with his tall, lean frame and deep brown eyes, and that he could be charming when he wanted to be, so the difference in their number of admirers wasn’t her issue.

It was that her number was _zero_.

It never bothered her before that she was eighteen years old and never had a boyfriend–or had a boy be interested in her for that matter. There were times in the past when she thought maybe one or two might have shown interest, but after entering junior high most boys began to steer away from the girls, and when they grew out of their ‘girls are gross’ phase, well... no one seemed to find her interesting anymore.

Rukia shook her head roughly. _Don’t be thinking of such juvenile things_ , she scolded herself. _There are more noble aspirations than getting a boyfriend._

Still... she couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. Ichigo himself didn’t have a girlfriend but the fact remained that if he wanted to, it would be a piece of cake for him to get one. Would it be the same for her? Was she... _pretty_ enough—?

Rukia shuddered despite the warmth that spread through her cheeks and neck, and she willed herself to think of something less embarrassing. Luckily, she didn’t need to, since she found herself standing before the brightly lit front of the Kurosaki Clinic.

* * *

“Mm! Dinner smells amazing, Yuzu!” Rukia greeted as she passed the kitchen on her way to her room.

The younger Kurosaki twin beamed at her from the stove. “Welcome home, Rukia-chan!” she cheered, thrusting a wooden spoon into the air in joy. “It’ll be ready in ten, so come down soon, okay?”

“Will do!”

The nice thing about Mondays was that it had the effect of making people feel more productive. The effect was not lost on Rukia, who pattered up the stairs, eager to dive into her homework after a long day of school and work, but not before a hot meal and a nice relaxing shower...

The door to her right burst open suddenly. An arm shot out and latched onto her forearm—

“Ichi—”

—and yanked her unceremoniously inside the room.

“— _GO!_ ”

Almost tripping over her own feet, Rukia stumbled into Ichigo’s room and glared at him. “What’s your problem, fool?!”

“Look at this!”

Rukia begrudgingly followed Ichigo’s line of sight down to the computer on his desk. The screen was open on a social networking site, particularly on a picture of two beautiful and equally well-endowed women.

“What am I looking at here, Ichigo?” she said dryly.

“Which one do you think is more attractive?”

Rukia rolled her eyes. _Not now, Ichigo._ “What’s the big deal? They’re both okay,” she assessed bitterly.

“Well, the one on the left is the girl I hooked up with last month,” Ichigo pointed out casually. “The one on the right is her roommate, but she was asleep by the time we got to their place. If I’d known she was equally as hot...” He leaned down over Rukia’s shoulder and squinted at the image. “Maybe even a little hotter. What do you think, Rukia? Should I—?”

_THWACK._

“ _OW—argh—_ what the hell, Rukia!”

She sensed genuine surprise in Ichigo’s cry and she knew why. While it wasn’t unusual for her to hit him when he was being too degenerate for her tastes, the force behind this particular punch didn’t match the appropriate level of punishment.

_Damn him, being so cavalier..._

* * *

Ichigo was still standing by his desk rubbing his jaw, which hurt more than usual, when the sharp sound of a door slamming shut snapped him out of his daze. Normally Rukia’s physical beatings came with verbal ones but this time she had just stormed off without a single derogatory remark.

He strode into the hallway with half a mind to barge into her room and demand an explanation, but he thought the better of it. They rarely fought anymore–a _real_ fight–since Rukia moved in but Ichigo felt like this was one of the times when Rukia just needed ‘space’ from him. He only wished that she were clearer about whether these times were his fault or not.

“Jeez,” he muttered. “After ten years, you’d think I’d figured her out by now.”

A snicker drew Ichigo’s attention up the hallway, where his sister Karin was smirking at him with her arms crossed. “You know that says more about you than it does about her, right?” she quipped.

“Whatever,” he scowled. “It’s probably one of those hormonal mood swings girls get. Don’t worry, you’ll be having them sooner or later, Ka—”

_THWACK._

Ichigo peeled the slipper off the side of his face.

“I guess you already are.”

From downstairs, Yuzu’s singsong cry announced, “ _Ichi-nii! Karin-chan! Rukia-chan! Di~nner!_ ”

Shaking her head, Karin turned to descend the stairs while Ichigo waited in the hallway. The stationary shadow under Rukia’s door told him that she was hesitating—maybe even waiting for him to leave so they wouldn’t have to see each other.

But just when Ichigo was about to turn and leave, the door opened. Rukia shuffled past him without a word, until she noticed that he hadn’t moved an inch.

“What are you doing just standing there, fool? You look like a demented statue,” she scolded. “Didn’t you hear Yuzu?”

Ichigo relaxed his shoulders. “Yeah, yeah. I’m right behind you, midget.”

And that exchange was enough assurance for both of them to know that things were back to normal. Ichigo didn’t bring up her future plans anymore and Rukia didn’t bring up his promiscuity.

Such was the nature of their relationship. Despite their ten years together, they weren’t the type of best friends whose friendship relied on sharing their personal secrets. If they wanted to talk, they would talk; if they didn’t, they woudn’t. Being there for each other no matter what—whether to protect, or to slap some sense into, the other—was enough.

They were each other’s constants, and that was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this in storage for years now and decided, in line with Spring Cleaning, to clear out some junk on my hard drive. Also, I figured it was about time I created an account through which I can release my darlings. This particular one was my favourite. It can stand alone but, if people seem interested enough, I have thought of a semi-canon-parallel A-plot. I was reluctant to commit to a multi-chapter entry because I am terrible at keeping a schedule. (My FF.net account can attest to that.) But we'll see. In any case, thank you for reading!


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